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User blog:Noselfworthotep/A Mass in the Shadows
The night was dark and the air was cold. Among the many street lamps which served to light the stairs, one of their number struggled to illuminate the atmosphere with its fitful and haphazard light source. Its flickering efforts stood akin to those of a small, stuttering child, putting forth its best attempts to surmount its own verbal barriers long enough broadcast one solitary stream of thought to the world around it. With every full second the light managed to brighten its surroundings, there came at least two in which the light failed and the shadows overtook the bottom of those steps. Its compatriots on the stair, their own lights as bright and constant as any mundane street lamps should manage, sat in empty spaces between the top and bottom of the steps. From their respective higher vantage points, they stood tall and indifferent in the glow of their own successes, watching while their lowermost companion failed its one, simple task. But the one stuttering light and its inability to measure up to its peers was of little concern to the man who had emerged onto the tile-stone walkway the lowest lamp had been meant to shed its brightness upon, for his eyes, mind and other senses were trained on another, far more abstract subject. The atmosphere spoke to him of a darkness far worse than the shadows left by the failing lamp. There was a presence all around, its essence bitter, biting and insatiably hungry, chewing at the air. The man reached up and adjusted his tie. He wore a formal but otherwise nondescript outfit consisting of a three-piece suit and a pair of matching dress shoes. Beyond this and his skin-- a pale caucasian, its texture smooth and somewhat waxen-- there was little to distinguish him, for the shadows saw fit to obscure his features. To a bystander, he may have seemed average, even normal. But he knew better, and so did the presence in the dark. Tendrils of black began to seep their way into the space of flickering light where he stood. In the air they twisted and writhed, convulsing into challenging new shapes whose abstract nature waxed and waned, shifting to forms aesthetically human before dissolving back into the amorphous and abstruse. They advanced, rolling, crawling and shambling in his direction, closing in on him with as much of their number as was possible. The absence of light led to little over a couple dozen of them being visible at once, but his senses told him of a mass that stretched beyond what the eyes could see, growing with each passing second. By now, the legion had swelled close to a hundred strong, and if left unchecked, its size would engorge even further. All of the unstable figures suddenly surged forward with supernatural speed, their malformed appendages outstretched and ready to flay every inch of flesh from the man's bones. A collective howl rose from their ranks and fractured the silence around them. He drew back towards the dying lamp, grasping onto the iron of its base. And then, deep inside his head, he roused her from her sleep. The moment she woke, every beast in view was simultaneously blasted into black vapor. She was the force that had moved into the confines of his mind some decades ago, and she did not take kindly to the attempted killing of her host. It had taken no more than a thought to wake her and guide her attention to the invaders, their very presence sending her into a fit of righteous anger. She aimed her essence at the encroaching shadow-beings and spread to each one of them, overpowering and obliterating several at once with the energy of her being. Their sickening forms blew apart and scattered into a dark mist, dissipating until nothing was left. He shifted his (and her) attention to the rest of the nigh-hundred abominations of shadow which had amassed beyond the wavering light of the nearby lamp. They had taken to rushing towards him just as their predecessors had, driven onward by their own suicidal compulsion to tear him apart. As they pushed forward, she turned her fury in their direction, lashing out and killing any who drew close enough to endanger her vessel. But the man was not content to let her waste time by attempting to assault the entire horde. As she continued to eviscerate the approaching shadow-beings, he stepped back towards the stairs, drawing away from the base of the lamp. The street light finally went out for good. And in the darkness, the man closed his eyes, sharpening his mental focus to a fine point. At that moment, he began seeing from her point of view, and through this, he was able to pick out the thread which connected the legion to their mind and master. The moment he saw, he put out a single, commanding thought, and she complied immediately. Her force gathered at that linchpin which held the army of shadows together and seared it completely, cutting them off from their source of power. The horde emitted one last spine-shattering howl before their collective presence was wiped away, the entire crowd suddenly and violently ceasing to exist. The man in the darkness opened his eyes and found himself alone in the silence of the night. The malevolent presence which had haunted this area not a second ago had retreated elsewhere. They had been puppets formed from the very shade itself, animated by the mind and spirit of one of the Abhorrent Three. It had drudged an army of these creatures from the depths of the gloom, intent on setting them loose and feasting upon the chaos they spread. This sect in particular had been drawn from the dark in order to stall him, to slow his progress towards the nearby city. She hummed something into the back of his mind, and he understood immediately that if they were to encounter more of these beings, she would deal with them herself, without need of his instruction. He had done enough to wake her from her slumber. That was the extent of his involvement in her affairs. He took a moment to steel himself for whatever conflicts lie ahead, then proceeded up the stairs, leaving the empty darkness behind. In another patch of black beyond the top end of the steps, he sensed a new contingent of the Abhorrent's puppets rising from the murk, ready to thrust themselves upon him at their master's call. Category:Blog posts Category:Stories Category:Short Stories Category:Horror Category:Lovecraftian